


I Can Hear Your Heartbeat Wanting Me

by kimaracretak



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: F/M, bb!kgb!amanda universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KGB bbys being all domestic-like and making plans to terrify Moscow ballet-goers what else d'you really want</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Hear Your Heartbeat Wanting Me

Ari's surprised to see her sprawled across his bed when he comes in. Amanda can tell without even looking, can tell by the way he stops for a half second with his hand still on the doorknob, before he takes off his suit jacket and going to the closet to hang it up rather than tossing it on the bed as he had undoubtedly planned. She frowns to herself – by now, she should know better than to hope Ari would get any better at subtlety, but she still found herself waiting for the day when he would.

"I hope you're not tracking snow all through the house,” she sighs, not deigning to look up from her collection of Catherine the Great's letters. He's probably not, of course, she can easily tell he's barefoot, but sometimes it's more fun to let him think there's some things she hasn't figured out yet. The look on his face when she beats him is always so much sweeter when he goes into their encounters thinking he's got a chance at the upper hand.

He laughs, and the familiar sound eases a bit of her annoyance. “Why not? I daresay the government carpets in here could do with a bit of snow to clean them off.”

“Mmm.” And now she does look up, enjoying the long lines of his naked back as he looks for something not work related to wear. “You're not out in the country anymore. The snow here stains.” It was as harsh and unyielding as the city's inhabitants, full of dirt and acid as Moscow's factories chased the elusive dream of modernization.

“Ah, and we wouldn't want to anger those who sign our paychecks, is that it?” Personally, she's more concerned about those who wouldn't think twice about disposing of their bodies in the Volkhov if given a reason, real or imagined, but Ari's bent over in a way that gives her a truly excellent view of his ass, so she lets it slide for the moment.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, then, Amanda returning to her book and Ari to his rummaging in the closet, both of them enjoying the simple pleasure of being with someone who they didn't have to be constantly guarded around.

Ari breaks the moment by turning around, holding up two nearly identical shirts. “Which one should I wear to _Prodigal Son_ tonight?”

She shrugs. “You're leaving for D.C. tomorrow. Do you really want to spend the night at the ballet with other people?”

His lips twist in a sly grin, the one she knows and loves for its promise of adventures to come. “Not particularly. But I have been wondering – how long do you think you can stay quiet with my hands under your skirt in the first row of the theater? This might be our last chance to find out for a while.”

Her breath catches, tongue darting out to lick suddenly dry lips. “I think,” she says, finally laying aside her book and slipping out of bed to show Ari just how little she's wearing, “I think I want to find out.” She leans up to capture his lips in a searing kiss, one hand working its way between their bodies to undo the suddenly infuriating clasp of his pants as he slides his own hands up under the barely-there lace and silk of her slip. For the first time since her training began, she's looking forward to a night out.


End file.
